


Ripples in Still Water

by Glishara



Category: Sharing Knife - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-20
Updated: 2011-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-21 14:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glishara/pseuds/Glishara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dag and Fawn left West Blue behind them, but what effects did their passage have on the world they left behind?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripples in Still Water

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [minor_ramblings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minor_ramblings/pseuds/minor_ramblings) in the [2011_bujold_fest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2011_bujold_fest) collection. 



When word came that Sunny Sawman and his friends found an injured Lakewalker in the woods, Sorrel Bluefield frowned, but it was Fletch who pushed his chair back from the table and stood up.

“It won’t be him,” Clover said, touching her husband’s arm.

“Don’t matter,” said Fletch. He nodded once to his father. “I’ll see to it.”

The door closed behind him, and Sorrel watched through the window as his son strode along the fence toward the road. A year ago, he wondered, would Fletch have left his dinner? A year ago, would anyone have thought to bring word?

#

Clover moved through the crowd, her basket hooked over one arm, a bolt of cloth in the crook of her other elbow. The market was crowded: it always was, at harvest-time.

Three times already, she had felt the too-familiar pat on her hip or behind. Each time, she felt more hunted and harassed. She pulled her basket in, trying to take up less space.

When Sunny Sawman grinned sidelong at her and she felt the pinch of his fingers on her backside, Clover let the basket fall to the dust and slapped him. Hard. She imagined Fawn would be proud.

#

“I want to try, Sorrel.” Tril spoke simply but firmly, and she could see the in her husband’s eyes.

Despite his qualms, however, he did not argue, and three months later went up the road to Lumpton Market with a precious burden. Three months of Tril’s spare hours and minutes had gone into it, paltry enough by themselves, but accumulating to what she expected Fawn’s patroller would call a Making.

When Sorrel returned three days later, she waited by the front door. The proud smile that lit his face was worth far more than the bag of coins he carried.

#

Rush was splitting wood when the traveler came. It was autumn, and the air felt good on his bare chest as he worked. When he heard the hoofbeats on the road, he rested his axe on the ground and shaded his eyes with his other hand.

It was a Lakewalker patroller. A lady patroller. She reined up within hailing distance. “Which way to West Blue?” she called. Courier?

Rush squinted at her. “Up the road. Maybe three miles.”

She nodded and reined her horse around.

On impulse, Rush called after her. “Good hunting!”

She grinned at him; she rode on.

#

Violet Sawman still hadn’t caught a child after eighteen months, and Sunny was starting to brood. Everyone else had a family. He’d heard that even that brat Fawn and her sorcerer had managed to make an almost human baby.

He thought of Fawn, sometimes: of her wide, startled eyes, of the way she’d felt beneath him as he’d driven into her. He had always known that she would be just like the other girls, despite the way she sometimes seemed to see through him, and well, he had proven it, hadn’t he?

He almost forgot the smell of her hair.


End file.
